Let It Go
by ShatteredAngelWings
Summary: Hermione Granger returns to Hogwarts to teach Dark Arts but she's changed. He can tell. He could always tell. Can Snape teach Hermione to love herself without letting her in? SSHG, Post-DH. Warnings: negative self-talk, low self-esteem, mentions of attempted suicide, cutting, and abuse. Rated M for later chapters
1. Chapter 1

Warning: OOC

* * *

******Let It Go**

******Severus Snape/Hermione Granger**

******(T)**

01

HER HANDS WERE shaking, she realized as she pressed down on the gushing wound in Snape's neck, his dark eyes meeting hers. Her mind was racing, her lips chapped and blubbery as she stuttered over healing spells. Slowly, the wound closed as he relaxed, color flowing back into his cheeks. In a horrible moment, the wound sprang back open and blood poured out, spilling between the gaps of her fingers.

She was aware that someone was walking closer but she didn't care; she had to save Snape. A new pair of hands, as pale as Snape's skin, joined hers, sleeves rolled up, revealing a single black mark on his arm. She caught a glimpse of blonde hair and was startled to find Draco Malfoy beside her.

"Don't…" gurgled Snape, his eyes pleading with Hermione. "Don't…leave…" She felt a burst of anger and determination inside of her belly. "…Me."

_Look at me._

Draco's fingers moved, clamping down on the broken skin as more blood rushed out, thick and hot against her elbow. Her free hands rummaged, searched desperately, in his robes as she frantically thought, _he must have something, _anything, _in case this happened! _Her fingers brushed cold glass and she yanked hard, nearly toppling over. Sweat and tears mingled in her eyes as she hastily read the label. _Anti-V. _

Her heart pounded as she broken the seal, her hands slippery with his blood. His eyes stared up at her, life seeping out of him and she cried even harder.

_Look at me._

She forced herself to take a deep breath as she slowly dropped four drops out of the dropper onto his wound. Draco held her against him as they waited. Slowly, the wound's bleeding stopped but the wound itself remained open.

_"Look at me." Harry turned and stared at Snape, bleeding out on the Shrieking Shack's cold floor. "You have your mother's eyes."_

"Send a Patronus." Hermione hardly recognized Draco's voice; it was very soft and raspy. His breath tickled her ear as she conjured her happiest memory—Snape staring at her as she and Krum made their way to dance during the Yule Ball—and sent out her otter, watching it scamper out the doorway; wisps of happiness trailed after its hind legs disappeared beyond the door frame.

Snape weakly rose his hand and brushed her kneecap; she choked back sobs and bile as his eyes slowly filled with life. "Her…" His voice, although a whisper, was raspy and barely a croak. Her heart lodged itself into her throat as she grasped his hand. His were cold still but warming slightly. "Her…mio…"

She could hear Draco coughing behind her, feel his hands on her back, but she ignored him and leaned in close to Snape's face. His metallic breath fanned across her face and her eyes fluttered closed. "Her…mione…" He slumped against her knee and she sobbed finally, the noise rattling out of her chest.

"Miss Granger!" Kingsley Shacklebolt's voice echoed and twirled around her.

Everything slowly became grey, flowing down into black and she passed out, her body resting on Snape's.

* * *

There was chatter when the first time she woke up and whispers that made her heart pound echoed out in the hallway. "…Snape…Dark Mark…acquitted," whispered the voices as she woke up one day, her eyes staring at the blank ceiling. "Granger!"

The boy in the chair beside her bed leapt out of his seat, his skin ghostly pale, eyes haunted with fear. "Malfoy?" An honest-to-God smile flickered across his thin mouth. "It's Draco," he said quietly. There was a silence that made her head pound. "Where…where is he?" she asked, her voice weak and tiny and raspy.

Draco's eyes went wide.

"He's…he made it, Hermione," he whispered, tears shining in his eyes and then the pompous Pureblood that she'd grown to tolerate ever so slightly crumbled beside her, his shoulders shaking—crying so badly that it sounded like he was retching. When he lifted his head, his eyes were bloodshot and his face was red with tearstains and she wouldn't have been surprised if he began to retch.

"I'm glad," she answered, relaxing into the plush pillows. Every inch of her ached, especially her head and her throat was dry as tumbleweed. "I'm glad." Draco stroked her hand and never stopped as she fell back into the oblivion of sleep.

* * *

The next time she woke, Draco was still there, although he wore a frayed black sweater with the patches in the elbows and tight black jeans; his hair was wet and slicked back as per usual. He still looked haunted; his face was paler than snow and his eyes were flickering everywhere.

"He's stabilized," he said when she met his eyes. "He is?" she croaked, sitting up. Draco handed her a glass of water and she downed it, despite the metallic aftertaste. Her eyes were glued to his forearm: an ugly black skull tattoo stood out of his pale skin, with a snake crawling from its open maw and staring at her with glowing red eyes—the Dark Mark.

She must've made a noise because he quickly rolled down his sleeve. "I was stupid," he sighed, scrubbing his face jerkily with his hands and, when his head reared, his eyes glowed with tears. "I was so scared. My father…he said if I told the Dark Lord no, he'd torture my family until they were barely alive. He'd keep them on the cusp of death just to bring them back and torture them further."

Draco looked like an angel, with his pale skin, pale hair and pale eyes as he met her eyes through his long, pale eyelashes. "I'm sorry, Granger," he said quietly, "I never meant to hurt you. I don't want to hate Muggleborns and HalfBloods anymore; I'm so _tired _of hating." He sobbed once. "My father is in Azkaban for three years." Hermione snorted.

"Please, he was corrupt. His mind…he…his mind wasn't in the right place. The Dark Lord did something, some sort of spell, an old, Dark magic that no one aside from Snape and the Dark Lord—"

"Voldemort."

Draco's head whipped around. "What?" Harry Potter stood in the doorway, his face bruised, glasses resting on top of his head. He crossed the room in a few strides. He looked calmer, more mature than Hermione had ever seen him. "Voldemort. That's his name." The Slytherin and Gryffindor stared down long and hard.

"Technically, it was Tom Marvolo Riddle," Hermione corrected the black-haired boy. Harry smiled. Draco squeezed her hand gently with a soft sigh; he looked as exhausted as Hermione felt. "True," Harry grinned, rubbing his chin. Stubble littered his jaw; he looked older with it. "How long was I out?" she asked.

"A few months. Snape's up and about." Draco grinned, transforming his gaunt face. "He's visited—"

"Miss Granger," purred a soft, silky voice and Hermione's throat clammed up, a short burst of heat exploding through her entire face. Her hands were trembling and her heart was beating extremely fast; she felt like she was going to be sick. "S-Snape," she stuttered like an idiot and his coal-colored eyes met hers.

She began to cry before she even realized it; hot tears burned her face. "Miss Granger—"

"Hermione. Call me _Hermione_, you and Draco both." The blonde smiled. Before she could say anymore, or even see Snape walk slowly across the room without so much as a limp, she drifted back under.

* * *

The final time Hermione woke, she felt slightly groggy but generally better. She rolled onto her side and gazed at the two boys asleep beside her; Draco's ruffled blonde hair was a strike contrast against Harry's dark head. They were leaning against each other, hands clasped, mouths open—the picture of a couple. "They just fell asleep," whispered a voice and she turned over.

With a short squeak, she brought the blankets to her chest as if to shield herself from Severus Snape's calm, dark gaze. He smiled warily, a short brief that must have been her imagination because Snape did not smile (it simply wasn't so), and crossed into the room. He wore a black coat and black trousers, as crisp and prim as ever. "They were arguing and then Harry—"

"You called him Harry."

Now the smile couldn't have been Hermione's imagination.

"That _is _his name, is it not?" She stared down at her hands, long nails that she never noticed and tiny scars dotting the fingers before nodding slowly. "Harry burst into tears. Draco comforted him and then they fell asleep." She spoke up quietly. "They look so peaceful."

"You were asleep on and off for nine months, Miss—Hermione." He stammered over her name and his cheeks colored slightly. "I must tell you this: those who died on our side did not really die. Sirius is still lives at Grimauld Place. Dumbledore heads the school." She hadn't realized she was crying until Snape sat down beside her and wiped the tears from her cheek with his sleeve.

"Don't cry. Tonks and Lupin are raising Teddy." His voice was soft, even _affectionate._

"But does that mean the Death Eaters are still—" She felt silly for asking as he shook his head. "Some escaped Azkaban. Lucius is in Azkaban." He stood suddenly, crossed his arms and then he leaned down, his eyes locked with hers. She suddenly felt very warm and weak. "Hermione," he whispered, his breath fanning against her lips.

She shivered.

"Thank you."

His lips brushed hers ever so slightly and then he was gone. _Hermione, _he whispered as she sank back onto the pillows.

_Hermione. _

She pulled up the blankets to her chin, faced the doorway in which he disappeared through and closed her eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Let it go**

**Severus Snape/Hermione Granger**

**(T)**

**2 [Revised version]**

_Two years later_

SNAPE PULLED HIS long, black hair away from his face, into a leather band, and adjusted his robes; tonight was Sorting.

His long fingers paused as he buttoned up his collared shirt, fingering, tracing, and pressing down on the ragged twin scars of the deadly Horcrux. _Two years, _thought the ex-Death Eater with a short smile as he pulled on his robes, _two long, slow, peaceful years since—_ "Since Voldemort died," came Dumbledore's soft voice.

The wizard stepped into Snape's office, wearing bright blue robes and pink striped socks; his eyes twinkled more than usual. Snape had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach and he knew what it meant: trouble with a capital T. He mustered a scowl and threw it on as the headmaster smiled warmly at him.

"We have a new teacher."

"Hmm."

Snape stared at the family crest on his ring, two serpents coiling around each other and circling a small black gem. "It's for Defense position," Dumbledore explained, looking at Snape over his moon-shaped glasses. The Potions master snorted, crossed his arms and glowered back at the older wizard. He couldn't stop his lip from curling. "I doubt they'll be able to take a year."

"Shall we?" asked Dumbledore with another smile as he gestured to the still-green fireplace, extending his other arm to Snape. The black-haired man sneered once more and stepped through without so much as a peep of his destination.

Dumbledore smiled to himself and hummed a Muggle tune under his breath as he stepped into the fireplace.

* * *

The Great Hall was absolutely sweltering; Snape could feel the hot sweat dripping down the curve of his spine. _Damn Albus, _he thought as he discreetly mopped the sweat beading his forehead with his sleeve. He slid a finger into the high collar of his robes—oh, how he despised them—and froze, his skin prickling with heat so intense, it was like being thrust into an icy lake in the middle of winter.

His insides burned and his lungs fluttered uselessly, attempting to breathe. "Severus?" asked Dumbledore, looking worriedly at him. "I'm…I'm fine," Snape stammered, his throat aching. His finger had barely brushed the ultra sensitive scar and he had seized up as though he were being struck again and again and—He ducked his head, collecting his thoughts, waiting for the tremors to stop.

His hands shook violently as he took his goblet and took a trembling sip of water. He only got a mouthful down. "Severus?" Dumbledore stared at Snape over his goblet of some sugary drink. "I assure you, Albus," he hissed in a low voice, "I am _fine._" He zoned out, trying to stop his hands from shaking and attempting breathe through the almost noticeable tremors raking his body.

"And, before we begin the feast, I would like introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Granger."

Unwittingly, his head jerked up and he saw the familiar figure, a bright, not-buck-toothed smile and smoothed down cinnamon-colored curls. Hermione Granger waved at the whispering students and, when she turned to say something to Albus, she went pale. Her brown eyes met his and everything inside him was burning, hot like fire; he was being _attacked _all over again.

He saw her face swimming above his, sweet, mint breath cascading onto his tongue and felt hot tears burn onto his cheeks—_her _tears for _him_. He felt the ghost of her fingers fumbling to stop the bleeding, her scared voice mingling with Draco's calm tone… "Hello, Professor Snape," the new teacher said, meeting his eyes.

"Hello, Miss Granger," he answered pleasantly enough but couldn't stop his eyes from admiring her plump figure. She wasn't very tall, around five-foot-five, but she carried herself with the authority and grace only that of a Gryffindor.

She was tan and golden, too much time in the sun; her hair was longer and curlier but it was smooth and silky; and her eyes were the color of milk chocolate. She was curvy, plump; nothing like the gangly little girl he met eight years earlier, spewing facts like a verbal encyclopedia. Snape highly doubted she'd recognize her beauty. Many of the other men barely spared her a glance; he noticed and firmed his resolve. She probably had some young, muscular boyfriend…

She was dressed in a soft, downy cashmere scoop-neck the color of stone and a pair of crispy trousers, ironed to perfection; her sensible heels clicked with each step toward him. A chain gleamed on her throat and he saw, as she came closer and closer, two wedding bands interlocked with simple diamonds set in the metal.

He realized, with a jolt of satisfaction, there was not a wedding band on her finger.

"You look better with your hair out of your face, Professor," was the first thing she told him as she stopped a few inches away. She smelled like sweet grass and light rain. "I am no longer your Professor, Miss Granger," Snape answered, noticing the way she kept rotating her wrist inward towards her hipbone. "Thank you." He kept an air of polite coolness…at least until a scratchy voice broke the tension.

"Severus!" squawked a voice he'd love to hex into oblivion. Sybil Trelawney ghosted over, batting her overly huge eyes at him. Ever since the mistake of complimenting one of her scarves, Snape was constantly dodging the love-struck Seer; he'd done everything short of hexing her to get her to leave him alone. Still, the skinny woman didn't seem to take a hint.

"Oh," Trelawney continued in a nasty tone, "Hello, _Granger_. I see that you still do not have the Inner Eye." When she turned to Snape, he saw Miss Granger give a rude hand gesture and, before he could swallow it, laughed loudly. Everyone gaped. "So, Professor Snape, you can laugh," mused Miss Granger. "Yes, I can, Miss Granger," he answered in a short tone.

She crossed her arms and, much to his surprise, winked at him. He absently wondered if she had a piece of dust in her eye.

"Let the Feast begin!"

_Dear Merlin, _thought Snape as he dropped into his seat beside a polite Miss Granger and a babbling Trelawney, _this is going to be a long dinner. _


	3. Chapter 3

**Let It Go**

**Severus Snape/Hermione Granger**

**(T)**

03

DINNER WASN'T THAT unpleasant, Hermione Granger reflected contentedly as she listened to her colleagues chatter with half an ear. She honestly thought it would've been torture, considering Snape was on one side of her and Trelawney kept making gibes at her singleness from his right elbow.

Snape was quiet for the most part, only speaking one-worded answers to Trelawney when he deemed necessary; she studied him behind her hair. His sharp, marble profile made her sigh quietly.

His nose was still aquiline as it had been that night in the Shrieking Shack; his eyes were the same tar-black that had stared at her wildly during her third year when Sirius dragged Ron into the Shrieking Shack; and his skin was still pale. All in all, he was the same man who she'd studied under for six years. And yet, Severus Tobias Snape wasn't the same man.

His skin had a healthy tinge to it; dividing his time between teaching, Voldemort and Dumbledore had obviously taken a lot out of him; he had always been so sickly when she saw him. She knew he was naturally thin and pale, not due to stress or lack of sun or the tendency to skip meals. He probably had a metabolism that rivaled Ron's.

His hair, long and the color of pitch-black, was pulled away from his face with a leather band and it made him look handsome. The fine, soft locks looked shiny and lush, unlike the greasy, oily sheen it had when he had been teaching, hence the nickname Ron had given him, "the Greasy Git".

Hermione had always assumed Snape's hair looked greasy or oily because it was so fine or maybe it was the shampoo he used. Whatever he used, it smelt lovely as she secretly breathed in the scent. It was light and airy, like roan-soaked sweet grass and altogether nice compared to the heavy axe she'd smelled on her many dates after Ron.

His eyes were so dark; they could've been mistaken for black, which, she had to admit to being one to have mistaken them for the color. She now saw they were the color of licorice and dark chocolate and framed by long, thick black eyelashes that put Parvati's to shame.

His face had filled out and he looked like he gained some weight but, as far Hermione could tell, he was still lean. His shoulders were broad but still slender, his legs were twice the length of hers, and his arms were as long as his legs.

He glanced over at her and she was glad for the hair hiding her neck. His lips frowned and he looked like he did when contemplating a hard equation. He reached over and brushed her hair away, smirking at her when she realized she'd been caught staring. Staring at _him. _

The Earth could just open up right now and Herpes could drag her to Hell and that would be just fine.

His eyes flicked up and down her frame and she felt naked under his gaze and she shifted, wondering if the Potions master had x-ray vision. She really hoped if he did that he couldn't see the scars on her body. He stared at her a moment longer, then turned away and speared a chunk of salmon. He brought it to his lips and Hermione took a sip of red wine from her glass.

"Hermione," Trelawney said in a sickly-sweet tone that made the new professor bristle, "how are doing? I know the breakup with Ron devastated you." She gave Hermione a mocking look when Snape was distracted. "It was mutual," Hermione said calmly, smiling at the memory. "It was right after he took me out to a play and he sat me down and looked me in the eye. 'I want you to be happy, 'Mione. I really do.' I started laughing. He was nervous when I wiped my eyes. 'Ronald,' I said, 'Do you want to break up?' His eyes went wide like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Although, tonight and from then forth, I wouldn't be the cookie jar."

There was a snort of laugher made her look up to Snape patting his mouth with his napkin.

"_Anyway,_" She shot him a little glare for effect, "we decided we were better as friends—just friends, Trelawney—and he moved into Lavender's place. There's expecting soon." She took another sip, much larger than the first, and sighed into the wine.

"He's such a sweet guy and Lavender's lucky to have him."

"I'm surprised you two broke up, though." Trelawney feigned grief. "Everyone thought you two would get married." She glanced at Snape with a curling smile. "Not really," sighed Hermione as she brushed her hair away from her cheek.

"I, on the other hand," Snape broke in, swirling his goblet of pumpkin juice, "am _not _surprised. He was not match for you, intellectually of course and he was probably a brute in bed." Hermione's face flamed. "He wasn't a brute," she quietly replied, "he was gentle but we both realized we were more like brother and sister than a couple and broke it off."

"You broke over the horrible sex?" Hooch butted in.

"No," Hermione smiled softly, "we wanted the other to be happy so we broke up. I'm invited to the baby shower, which is this Saturday if anyone's interested in going. It's at the Burrow." There was murmur amongst the staff as Hermione slid back into her little shell.

"Aren't you going to try to date? To put yourself back on the market?"

"I have. None of them met my standards." _I didn't meet their standards. They want a skinny goddess with flawless skin, not a chubby little girl with lots of scars. _She hugged herself and stood up. Her throat was tightening and she was afraid to look at anyone. Especially Snape.

"If you'll excuse me—" Her voice broke a little and a crushing flood of embarrassment flashed through her like a heat wave. _Don't cry now. _"—If you'll excuse me, I need get going. First day tomorrow." She managed a smile. _You really are pathetic, _she thought to herself sourly as she scurried out the doors.

So wrapped in her thoughts, Hermione didn't notice Snape approaching until his voice sounded beside her ear. He smelt like mint and pumpkin juice. "Miss Granger—"

"Hermione." Her cheeks were hot like fire. _Do you pride yourself, Miss Granger, in being such an insufferable know-it-all? _

"Hermione."She loved the way he stressed her name but she'd rather bawl her eyes out in her chambers.

"Have a good first day, Hermione." He billowed away to the dungeons and she drifted to her chambers.

She was out like a light before her head even hit the pillow.


End file.
